


When All is Said and Done

by VirtualxChaos



Series: Forever, The End [4]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: AAAANGST, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Game: Resident Evil 5, Let me really clear, M/M, Post-Resident Evil 5, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2020-12-28 23:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21145175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirtualxChaos/pseuds/VirtualxChaos
Summary: “Give up, Wesker,” he declares angrily. “It’s over; you lose.”Wesker just smiled, and it only made him angrier. “But this is almost better. I suppose its fitting, that you would be worthy of Uroboros. My long-time enemy, now one of my greatest creations.”





	1. Chapter 1

_"When all is said and done _   
_ I will be the one _   
_ To leave you in the misery and hate what you've  become."_

Wesker looks at the Urobos containers, a familiar gleam in his eye, and Chris does something incredibly, horrifically stupid. “No!” He shouts, throwing himself forward just as Wesker punches into the canister, releasing the virus in a cloud of cerulean gas as Chris collides with him. He covers his mouth and nose but it’s too late; he gets hit straight in the face with it, eyes watering and lungs beginning to burn almost instantly, and he starts coughing. He barely hears Sheva call out to him.

After a few seconds he feels something start to happen; his whole body suddenly felt too hot and too cold at the same time, skin prickling with a sudden acute awareness, blood rushing in his ears. His body feels weak and he collapses at Wesker’s feet, practically forgetting the man as his world narrows down to the air seizing in his lungs, the violent lurching in his stomach, and he’s sure he’s dying.

As quick as it all began it stops, and everything abruptly rights itself. A wave of sound washes over him, vision clearing, sharpening to the point that he can see the individual granules in the rock beneath his hand, the dust particles in the air. There’s a strong, steady beat pulsing in his ears, clear and defined, and it takes him a second to realize that it’s the sound of his own heartbeat. 

He sees the edge of a leather boot in his peripheral.

He turns on Wesker with an intense ferocity that would startle him if he weren’t overcome with a single-minded determination: eliminate the enemy. He finds Wesker’s reptilian eyes in the dissipating smoke, unaware that his own are glowing a vivid red, casting a faint menacing light over his face. He lets out a vicious snarl and lunges out of his crouch, a mild burning sensation that he barely notices lighting up his arm as he reaches out for Wesker. But instead of seeing his own hand punch the other man like he’s expecting, Uroboros explodes out of nowhere, Wesker’s shocked face disappearing under a writhing mass of black tendrils. A small part of Chris is aware of abstract sensation of Wesker’s icy skin, the man struggling fiercely as Uroboros practically swallows him whole. He makes an aborted lunge forward and manages to catch a wriggling tentacle between his teeth, and dimly Chris makes the connection between the action and the muted spark of pain it ignites.

The writhing mass slams Wesker into the ground, swarming over every inch of him and immobilizing him. Wesker struggles and snarls, but it's as futile as fighting the waves of an ocean for all the good it does him, and it gains him no leeway as Chris looms over him. The wild sounds coming out of his mouth turn pained as Uroboros constricts and digs in, all of Chris’s thoughts drowned out by his instincts screaming _ eliminate the enemy_.

“Chris?” He hears, and then he’s on high alert again, having forgotten that they were not alone. He looks up, ready to attack again, and sees Sheva hovering a few feet away, gun drawn but pointed towards the ground, something akin to horror on her face. He stares at her for a long few moments, almost not recognizing her, but seeing the worry etched into her features reminds him.

It all comes back to him in a rush, of where they are, of who he is. He sets his jaw and turns back to his enemy, shoving down the flash of fear at realizing he’d almost lost himself. Deciding to freak out about it sometime that wasn’t _ right now _, he takes a minute to try and consciously wield the alien biomass sprouting from his body, swarming around his arm and crawling up his shoulder, trying to reign it in until he was simply restraining Wesker instead of actively trying to rip him to pieces. 

As soon as he does Wesker stops fighting so vehemently, panting harshly through gritted teeth as he stares up at Chris with intense eyes. But it’s not a hate-filled gaze like he’s expecting; instead, Wesker seems to be greedily taking in every inch of him, gaze flickering to his eyes every few seconds as he observed the way the virus curled around him, how he seemed to effortlessly wield Uroboros within minutes of being infected, overpowering Wesker easily. He stared, and stared.

All at once he relaxes into the ground with a laugh, dropping his head on the ground to stare up at the sky, and Chris stares at him like he’s lost his mind(no surprise there, really). “Oh, Chris,” he sighs, and feels the tendrils on him scramble as if in surprise. “All these years fighting bioterrorism and calling me a monster, and now look at you; wielding Uroboros as easy as breathing. You continue to surprise me,” he chuckles. Chris’s eyes flash with anger, Uroboros squeezing a little tighter. “Give up, Wesker,” he declares angrily. “It’s over; you lose.” 

Wesker just smiles, and he can feel the rage crawling in. “But this is almost better. I suppose its fitting, that you would be worthy of Uroboros. My long-time enemy, now one of my greatest creations.” Chris growls and bears down on him, hard enough that the ground protests with a loud, ominous cracking sound. Wesker spits out a mouthful of blood and smiles up at Chris with bloody teeth.

Chris is tempted to kill him. After all, he doesn’t think they had anything strong enough to contain someone like Wesker at any of the B.S.A.A.’s locations, except for maybe Chris himself, now. But he himself is probably considered a B.O.W.--a risk, a threat--and he doesn’t know what the B.S.A.A. will do with him either. _ He _doesn’t know what he’s going to do with himself after this. He’s a monster, now; one of the things he’s spent the last ten years of his life hunting and despising almost as much as the people who created them. A wave of self-loathing crashes over him violently, and he turns it on the man who did this to him, slamming him into the ground again with a single-minded hatred and fury.

They were standing in the heart of a volcano; maybe he should just drag Wesker into the lava and put them both out of their misery. He glances over at the glowing magma a few feet away, distorting the air above it with its heat, considering it. 

Before he can make a decision, he hears the beats of a helicopter, quickly growing louder, and looks up, not noticing Sheva look at him in confusion and following his gaze to the speck of a helicopter in the distance. Not long after they see it, their headsets crackle to life. “Chris, Sheva, its Josh. We’re coming in, get ready.” Chris and Sheva look at each other. “Copy,” Sheva says, worry and hope on her face, and they both turn their gaze to Wesker.

“What are we going to do with him?” She asks. Chris hesitates.

“I can’t go with you,” he says, not looking away from Wesker. Wesker holds his gaze, eyes narrowing.

“What?” Sheva said, shock clear in her voice, and he sees her turn to him in his peripheral. He doesn’t know what she finds when she looks at him, but it’s nothing good. “Chris, no. There has to be another way--”

“We can’t risk Uroboros spreading,” he cuts her off. “I can’t go back like this. You have to go without me.”

“Chris,” she said fiercely. He’s never her heard her voice so stern, and it startles him into looking up at her. “This isn’t the end. We’ll figure something out,” she says confidently, voice leaving no room for argument. He glares at her and she glares right back, refusing to give, and he can’t find the words to argue with her. Her gaze softens, and her sympathy is the final nail in the coffin. “I’m not leaving you here.” 

His shoulders slumps in defeat. He concedes with a nod, taking a deep breath and straightening up. “We’ll take him with us, see if we can get any more intel out of him about Tricell. I should be able to keep him restrained until we find somewhere to put him.” 

Sheva nods and opens the comms. “Josh, this is Sheva. Can you land? We’ve captured Wesker alive, we’re bringing him with us.”

“What? How?” Chris and Sheva look at each other in surprise. “Jill?” Chris asks.

“Yeah, I’m here. How did you manage--oh my god.” Chris looks up to see Jill peering out of the side of the side of the helicopter, wide blue eyes staring right at him with something like horror, which about summed up how Chris felt. He says nothing, face grim as the helicopter slowly comes lower. He realizes that there’s no space big enough for them to land, and moments later Jill throws down a ladder for them to climb. Sheva holsters her gun and grabs for it, climbing without hesitation. Concentrating, Chris manipulated Uroboros to wrap around Wesker instead of just holding him down, dragging him on the ground as he started walking, reaching out for the ladder. 

“Chris, are you sure about this?” Jill asks over the headsets, as Wesker began to struggle again.

“He could have more intel about Tricell; we can’t risk them getting away with data on the virus and potentially replicating it,” he replies. She doesn’t look happy about it but she doesn’t argue, watching as he looks down at his arm consideringly. He stared down at Uroboros, and after a few moments she sees a ripple pass through it, and then it parts like water, revealing his human-looking arm underneath as it shifts to his shoulder and his side, and he starts to climb the ladder, Wesker following him as he dangles in Uroboros’ hold.

The back of the helicopter was silent as Josh carried them away from the volcano. Jill stared at the black tendrils writhing around Wesker like a living thing, each one moving independently of the others almost as if they had minds of their own. Chris stared at the floor of the helicopter grimly, not meeting her eyes. 

After a few minutes Chris can start to feel exhaustion creeping up on the edge of his senses. He tries to push it away, but as soon as he notices it seems to rush over him all at once, weakening his grip on Wesker. It feels like an unnatural kind of exhaustion, and he vaguely wonders if it has anything to do with wielding Uroboros for a long period of time, like overexerting an undeveloped muscle. He does his best to fight it and readjust his hold before Wesker notices. 

But Wesker does notice, and a few seconds is all he needs. He slips right out of Uroboros’ grasp and lunges for the pilot seat, and none of them are fast enough to stop him from slamming his palm into Josh’s head.

Chris thinks he hears a scream as they careen out of the sky, and everything goes up in a fiery explosion. The last thing he remembers is being consumed by heat and pain, and then everything goes dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yknow how this was only suppose to be two chapters...? Haha, surprise. It actually might end up being four chapters. ^^'
> 
> \- Chaos

He wakes up with blood and dust in his mouth, a searing pain in his leg and and slightly lesser pains in various other places. It’s too hot, and he can hear the crackle of a fire close by. He struggles out from beneath the weight on top of him, a metal panel that's severely bent out of shape and looks vaguely familiar. In the time it takes for him to stagger to his feet, the throbbing in his head rapidly decreases, and he looks down just in time to see what looked like a really ugly gash in his arm close up, leaving nothing but a smear of blood. There’s a narrow scrap of metal spearing his thigh, and it takes him a minute to yank it out with a pained scream. It takes a little longer for that one to heal, and the fact that he’s healing at an inhuman speed is something he absolutely _ does not think about_, instead looking around to try and get a grasp of his surroundings, barely lit by a fire near the helicopter, and then he remembers that oh yeah, they fell out of the sky because Wesker is a _ fucking lunatic_.

Before his rage can get the better of him, he spots a head of blond hair amongst the wreckage, his leg twinging in protest as he immediately hauls ass until he skids to a stop in the sand, immediately rolling Jill onto her back and checking her over for injuries. Her pulse is sluggish but steady, a deep gash along her temple, and there’s some nasty bruising on one of her wrists, and when he gives her a quick pat down to check for any broken bones, her ribs give slightly on one side. She’s not completely unharmed but Chris is just glad she’s alive, reveling in the relief for a brief moment before searching the clearing for his other teammates.

Its just then that the helicopter gives a violent, deafening lurch and rolls over on its side, revealing a disheveled Wesker and Chris’s remaining teammates. He’s dragging Josh through the sand by the back of his vest, Sheva over his shoulder, scanning the area until he lands on Chris, and immediately starts walking towards him.

Chris jumps to his feet with a snarl, Uroboros standing at attention under his skin. “Wesker, you son of a bitch--”

“You can waste your energy trying to kill me or you can listen to what I have to say,” Wesker interrupts calmly, slowly to a stop a few feet away, not relinquishing his hold on either of the unconscious agents. He’s as disheveled as Chris as ever seen him, hair a mess, the side of his face and arm covered in soot, jacket missing and the tattered remains of his shirt hanging by a thin thread. It would be disconcerting if he wasn’t so pissed.

“I don’t care about--”

“So you don’t care if your teammates die?”

Chris’s jaw snaps shut with a click, and he glares mutinously in a silent demand for the blond to get it over with.

“All the equipment is dead, all of your teammates are injured and unconscious, and you’re stranded in an unknown location in Africa with no nearby resources available to you and no backup on the way,” Wesker lists matter-of-factly, and for a moment the familiarity of it is so strong it makes him nauseous.

“And let me guess, you somehow have the solution to my problems?” Chris asks bitterly. He has no doubt that if he proves difficult Wesker won’t hesitate to use Josh and Sheva as hostages. Wesker just smirks, and Chris sighs angrily. He seriously debates refusing, purely out of spite, but he can’t do that to his team. “What are your demands?”

“A temporary truce until we reach a safe house, and your team is tended to. And then, we renegotiate.”

Chris grits his teeth and reluctantly mulls it over. It’s not a terrible deal, and knowing Wesker, it definitely could be worse. Wesker undoubtedly has the upper hand, and he doubts negotiation is going to go any better the second time around. What he can’t understand is why Wesker is even bothering with setting this up, instead of leaving them all for dead and running off to continue his evil plans. 

“Why are you doing this?” he asks, before he can think better of it. He knows he isn’t going to get an answer anyway when all Wesker does is raise an eyebrow at him, eyes disconcertingly bright in the dark. Scrubbing his hands over his face, Chris sighs in defeat. “Fine. Fine! Where are we going?” He demands, kneeling to gather Jill and carefully slinging her over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. When he looks up, he finds Wesker looking at the dark sky.

“If we travel northeast long enough we should stumble across an evacuated Tricell base. It shouldn’t take us more than a day to reach it.” He pauses as if having realized something, glancing down at his charge. “Perhaps two.” Chris stares. Two days? From what he could tell, Jill and Josh both had at least mild concussions, probably worse, and he had no idea what else Josh and Sheva were possibly suffering from. 

“That’s too far, they won’t make it that long.” Wesker turns to him with a disdainful sneer, but it fades when he looks at Chris, a considering look on his face that he doesn’t like. 

“Well, _ I _would have no trouble reaching it in half a day,” he says, leaning down to haul Josh up over his other shoulder. “The question is, can you keep up?” He asks, golden-red eyes flashing in challenge. Chris riles, unaware that his eyes give an answering flash that make Wesker give a predatory smile.

“Let’s go then,” he demands, and Wesker takes off like a shot, leaving Chris to curse and scramble after him. It’s not as hard as he thought it would be with Jill’s weight hampering him, and in fact he feels strangely quick and light as he breaks into a sprint, but he’s still nowhere near Wesker’s impossible speed. Somehow in all the events that led him here, he almost forgot what Wesker was capable of. After less than a minute of gradually losing ground, Wesker slows down a little, and there’s a cocky smirk on his face when Chris finally catches up to him. 

The run is silent other than Chris’s harsh breaths and the sounds of their feet flying over the earth. The night is a small mercy from the blistering heat of the sun, warm air just barely tolerable instead of absolutely suffocating, and though it’s dark and there’s nothing in sight for miles in any direction, it’s easier for him to see than it usually is. _ Don’t think about it, _ he repeats to himself. 

Not long after they start running, there’s an explosion in the direction they came from that makes Chris stumble, but Wesker doesn’t falter so he can’t afford to stop and look. Probably the helicopter, if he had to guess. They keep going.

He can’t tell how long they’ve been going, but knows its been at least a couple hours before the burn in his legs becomes too much and he can’t keep going. He slows to a stop, and it takes a few seconds for Wesker to catch on and backtrack. He looks at Chris silently for a minute, who’s hunched over with his hands braced on his knees, just breathing. With a sigh Wesker lays his burdens down in the sand with just enough care to not be considered rough, and reaches out take Jill. Chris sees the hand in his peripheral and lashes out with a growl, Uroboros snatching Wesker’s arm and constricting it, though if it causes him any pain he doesn’t show it. He waits while Chris struggles to reign it in, and without his sunglasses there’s nothing to hide the fascination in his inhuman eyes; Chris doesn’t like it when Wesker looks at him like that, like a bug under a microscope. Wesker blinks and its gone again. “We’ll rest for a few minutes and then keep going,” he says blandly, and Chris grudgingly allows him to take Jill and lay her by Sheva while he collapses next to them. 

Wesker checks each one of them over while Chris observes with sharp eyes, worriedly noting that none of them had woken up during what was undoubtedly a rough ride. As he watches, Wesker picks up one of Sheva’s arms and maneuvers it carefully. He hesitates, and Chris guesses that he’s trying to gauge how much strength to use, having caught on to what he was doing. After a long moment of deliberation, he jerks it back into place with a sickening pop and lays it back down; Chris is honestly surprised he didn’t just let it drop, or that Wesker is going this far at all. It brings up an unwelcome part of his mind that still remembers a respectable leader, a capable captain; the part of his memory that clung to a lie. It bleeds into the monster he knows, and he silently struggles to shove it down and bury it, remind himself that none of it was real. It's been awhile since he’s had to do that, since Wesker always make it so easy to forget.

“None of them appear to have any life-threatening injuries. Jill and the pilot both have concussions, but we won’t know how serious they are until we get to the base,” Wesker says as he lowers himself into the dirt a few feet away, drawing Chris out of his head. He looks up at the other man and finds that amber gaze already on him. They’re strangely devoid of any of the anger or malice that he’s grown so used to, but he can’t decipher the emotion that's taken their place as he holds Wesker’s gaze. The sentimental part of him struggles to the surface again.

“Why are you doing this, Wesker?” Why he’s bothering to drag them miles through a desert instead of ditching them, why Wesker is trying to take over the world, why Wesker does any of the things he’s done. Of those he’s not even sure which one he means, and for once he doesn’t demand it in a rage, he just sounds tired. Wesker’s eyebrows furrow, and it unnerves Chris to realize that he’s actually considering an answer that he’s suddenly not sure he wants. 

It must show in his face because Wesker just shakes his head. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to,” he reprimands lightly, and to Chris it almost sounds fond. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter should be the last one, but it might end up being five ^^' I started this with only the end goal in mind and it's kind of gotten away from me, so we'll see how it goes.
> 
> \- Chaos

Chris is delirious with exhaustion when the sight of a metal fence finally appears in the distance. The gentle illumination of the stars begin to fade as the sun starts to rise, revealing the small wooden shack that Wesker is leading him towards. He can't think past his tired protesting muscles, the sweat dripping from every inch of his skin, the unrelenting urge to just lay down and sleep. 

He slows down when Wesker does, stares at the ground with hazy eyes as the other man kicks down the door, swaying ever so slightly as Wesker heads inside. His mind feels blank, watching as the blond leans his burdens against the wall, awkwardly maneuvering so he doesn't accidentally drop one of them. He takes note of the location of the floorboard that he pulls up to reveal a small key, shuffling back as he kicks aside the shaggy carpet right in front of the door to reveal a shiny silver key hole in the floor. The wooden hatch opens to reveal another hatch about half a foot below. At a glance it looks like reinforced steel, with a six digit passcode that Wesker quickly punches in.

Chris is completely silent while all of this happens, standing in the doorway with Jill's blond hair in his peripheral, his back starting to warm up as the sun rises. 

He startles when something touches his face, finding Wesker too close, hand outstretched. The wall behind him lacks the two B.S.A.A. agents that were there just a second ago, and he looks around in a growing state of panic.

"They're downstairs," Wesker says quietly, cutting off Chris's panic. He reaches out again to grab hold of Jill's arm, and Chris starts shaking his head. "You're practically asleep on your feet, I don't trust you not to drop her on the way down," he snaps irately, but Chris just keeps shaking his head. Jill wouldn't forgive him for putting her back into the hands of her tormentor, especially so soon after freeing her. It's been less than a day since they fought in the ruins, since Jill bared her teeth and ran from him with that lost look in her eyes. He doesn't entirely trust himself not to drop her either, but it's better than the alternative. 

He feels Uroboros rising to the surface, obeying a command he doesn't remember giving. It wraps around Jill, tethering her to Chris's back, and Wesker backs off with a sigh, leading Chris into the hatch. It's a ladder that goes straight down, and the wriggling appendages cling to the bars as he slowly descends, steadying him. 

He follows Wesker's back through a door that leads to what appears to be an infirmary with six beds, three on each side. Sheva and Josh lay unconscious on the right, and Chris trudges over to set Jill down on the left bed closest to the door. The black tendrils ease her decent as she slides off his back, and he immediately hates how they look against her skin, like they're trying to taint her with their proximity. They flail erratically and draw back as if burned, withdrawing under his skin uncomfortably as he steps away from her. 

"You should rest," Wesker says from over his shoulder, and if he weren't so damn tired it probably would have startled him. 

"Don't trust you," he says without thinking. A hand on his arm pushes him lightly and he actually stumbles, exerting effort not to straight up fall on his ass. 

"You don't have to sleep," the blond says, footsteps leading towards the door. To Chris's addled brain it sounds reasonable--he can rest without sleeping, he thinks, sitting down on the bed next to Jill's. He looks over at Josh and Sheva, and takes a minute to thank whoever's listening that they're all still breathing. 

It's the last thing he knows.

\--

Waking up feels like rising from the murky depths of a lake, lethargic and slow, as if he's been asleep for a hundred years. There's a comfortable weight on his skin, warm and encompassing, wriggling idly as he pries his eyes open. The ceiling is dimly lit concrete, and he squints at in confusion, trying to remember what he was doing before he fell asleep. It takes him a minute of sleepy blinking to summon the energy to sit up with a groan, taking in more of the room. The whole room is concrete and barren, save for a reinforced door across from him and the black panels lining floor to ceiling on his left. Small overhead lights sit on each wall, a white camera nestled into the corner with a red light. 

He comes to the abrupt realization that he's in confinement, suddenly wide awake. He looks down at the Uroboros crawling all over him, stumbling out of bed with a shout. By the time he tumbles to the floor the last traces of it disappear, and he's left panting on the floor, looking around in bewilderment. It dawns on him how he came to be here. 

_ Wesker. _ "Dammit," he curses under his breath, dragging himself to his feet and looking towards the black panels.  _ They have to be observation panels,  _ he thinks, stumbling towards them on uncooperative legs. How long has he been asleep?

"Wesker!" He bellows, slamming into the glass panel. What had Wesker been up to why he was asleep? He can't help the worry for his teammates out there with that psychopath while he's locked in here, where he can't protect them. Of course that's just how Wesker planned it.

The man in question doesn't show up until hours after Chris has exhausted himself. Wesker silently watches for a moment from the observation room, taking in the evidence of his efforts: thin cracks spider-webbing one of the glass panels, a shallow crater in the concrete by the door, and the broken camera. The bed is overturned on its side, a familiar head of brown hair peeking over the frame. Wesker shakes his head.  _ So tenacious,  _ he thinks, turning on the bright lights in the ceiling, watching Chris’s head jerk up and whip towards him as he switches on the speaker. 

“Chris,” he says pleasantly, smirking as the man hits the glass with a dull  _ thud. _ He can’t see Wesker, sight obscured by the one-way panels, but Wesker obliging steps into the path of that vicious glare, pleased by how close he’s able to get. Chris’s eyes a livid, glowing scarlet--a testament to his anger, he supposes--but surprisingly enough, there are no other signs of Uroboros crawling about. 

“Wesker,” Chris growls, but strangely enough, it lacks the edge of frothing rage that the man always wielded at him with all the grace of a bull. He’s slightly disappointed; he was the only one capable of inspiring such a level of wrath from the amiable, level-headed Chris Redfield. Perhaps it’s better this way, though--it might make reasoning with him a little easier. 

“Glad to see your finally awake,” Wesker carries on smoothly, leaning against the glass. “I trust you feel properly rested? You’ve only been sleeping two days.” Chris’s eyes widen marginally in alarm, but he supresses his reaction, knowing Wesker is watching.

“Cut the crap, Wesker. Let me out!”

“Hm, I’m afraid not.”

“We had a deal, dammit!”

“Yes, but I don’t recall stating that the renegotiations would be under fair circumstances.” He smirks when Chris bares his teeth, his own eyes reflecting back at him in the glass as they start to glow, instincts clamoring in response to the challenge. “Rest assured, your teammates are still resting and on the fast track to recovery.”

His eyes narrow in suspicion, but with Chris in a cage Wesker has the upper hand, and thus no reason to lie. “That could change, of course.” 

“What do you want?” Chris demands, getting straight to the point. He’s never had the finesse for manipulation or word games, something that Wesker has always admired and found inferior in equal turns. But he’s not blind, and he knows that Chris has other qualities that men like Wesker couldn’t fathom. Perhaps that’s why he’s so drawn to him. 

“To observe a perfect symbiosis of Uroboros and its human host,” he states matter of factly, letting Chris process and watching it play out on his face. First confusion, then understanding, and lastly, bitter acceptance. 

“You want me.”

“Very good, Chris,” he says in that same, patronizing tone that he knows gets under his skin. 

"I'm not going to be your Guinea pig, Wesker!" 

"I suppose you want mind if I put them to sleep, then. Like dogs, rather."

Chris shoves off the glass and paces a line front of the panels, and Wesker backs off leisurely, now that they're no longer face to face. 

"Come now, Chris. We both know how this is going to end." Chris's shoulders hunch because yes, he does know. He would never out his comrades' safety on the line, and it leaves only one option. 

"What are you gonna do with me?" He asks lowly, not looking at him, and Wesker almost feels a touch of pride. He'd be disappointed if Chris just promised himself over for the sake of the others without even knowing what Wesker had in store for him; this was supposed to be a negotiation, after all. 

"Various testing--blood tests, endurance tests, various observations and most likely physical examinations. Nothing too strenuous," he says lightly, although it's probably not true. He's sure that he'll end up testing his pain tolerance and regeneration at the very least. 

"And what about your--" he makes a wide arching motion with his hand, "--world domination nonsense? You're just going to give all that up to keep me here as your lab rat?"

Wesker purses his lips. Months of planning and preparations had taken a crash landing in a volcano. As far as the rest of the world knew, everyone in this underground bunker was dead. With both him and Excella gone, the last dregs of Tricell were likely to scatter, leaving their research easy pickings for any other bioweapon companies that might surface. 

All his work over the last ten years, given up. Was that what this meant? He's sure it wouldn't take much to coax Chris into a lifestyle of isolation, with only Wesker for company. But world domination? Chris has already proven himself as an unshakable hindrance; with Uroboros at his disposal, it's likely bound to be even worse. He'll worry about that after everything is settled.

"I haven't decided," he admits. "Maybe you can convince me."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long wait, it took a while to figure out how to wrap it all up. That being said, here is the last chapter; its longer than the others, but it is definitely the final chapter.
> 
> This is your warning: The tags have been updated. Boys and girls, this is not a happy ending. Explicit warnings in the end notes.
> 
> \- Chaos

Wesker watches as Chris pulls the metal bedframe upright, retrieving the mattress, and then the gray-washed out linens, making the bed with slow, painstaking care. It’s been three days since he’s put his hostages in drug-induced comas, four since they’ve arrived at the bunker. He’s spent the last couple hours sitting at the desk in the observation room, idly watching Chris pace the containment cell like a caged tiger while he reads the notes he’d found in the lab. Nothing but the earliest notes of Uroboros; this was one of the many failsafe locations he’d had designated in various locations of the world, among old Umbrella bunkers, like the one he’d exploited in Kijuju.

He wonders, not for the first time, what makes Chris different. He could admit to being more than a little disappointed to find himself almost completely unaffected by the virus, having realized that the specific combination of the T-Virus, Progenitor Virus, and his own genetics seemed to have rendered him completely immune. He can still find traces of it bonded in his DNA, but he feels no different than he did before, and has not managed to call forth any of the signature traits as so easily as Chris clearly had. 

Tamping down on a sigh, Wesker puts the files down, knowing that they don’t hold any information he doesn’t already have. He looks up at Chris again, who has settled on top of the bed, legs crossed, facing Wesker. He looks hesitant, a peculiar change from the mullish expression he’s worn since he woke up. He’s been awake for going on forty hours as well, and the blond can’t tell if he’s intentionally holding out or not.

“Wesker?” Chris calls out cautiously, almost startling him. He almost thinks Chris knows he’s there, but after a few seconds of silence pass he scowls down at the bed and looks away. Watching him for a moment more, he clicks on the speaker.

“Yes?” Chris’s head jerks up. 

“I…” He visibly struggles, and Wesker looks on in amusement.

“Have something to tell me, Chris?” he drawls, tone patronizing. The brunette’s scowl deepens, as if the mere sound of his voice angers him. It probably does, Wesker thinks, smirking to himself.

After a moment Chris takes a deep breath and sits up straight. “I want Josh, Sheva, and Jill returned to the hands of the BSAA, and proof that they’ve made it safe and alive. If you can give me that, I’ll… I’ll stay here with you,” he finishes haltingly, like it physically pains him to force the words out. 

“And how do I know you won’t run off the second I let you out?” Wesker vollies. Chris ought to know better than to think he’d accept something as flimsy as a promise.

Chris hesitates, and Wesker pushes on. “Come now, you ought to know that if you leave here that I’m not going to chase you down. I’m going to go back to what I did before, and this time I’ll succeed,” he says smoothly, watching as Chris struggles to keep his temper reigned in. 

“The only way I’m leaving this place is if I kill you first,” he bites out.

Wesker leans closer to the microphone, voice dropping. “Do you really think you can do that? Admit it, even if you had managed to drown me in that volcano, and go back to your life fighting the good fight, do you really think you wouldn’t always be wondering if I was really dead? Do you think you wouldn’t be doing that if you left this place? Spending the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, paranoid that you’ll see me again?” 

He smirks, watching the affect his words have on Chris. “Is that really what you want?” 

Chris turns away, jaw clenched; its all the answer he needs. “I’ll have your companions’ departure arranged, if only to see to your compliance; they’re of little importance to me.” He clicks the speaker off, and stands. Chris doesn’t move at all as Wesker leaves the room. 

  
  


\--

  
  


Chris startles at the sound of the reinforced door opening, scrambling off the bed in surprise. Something flies at his head and he catches it on reflex, staring at the radio before looking at Wesker in bewilderment. _ “This is Delta leader Captain Esin of the North American branch--” _ Chris’s attention snaps down to the radio. _ “We’ve made it to the coordinates. There doesn’t appear to be any threats in the area, or anything else for that matter.” _

_ “Captain!” _He hears in the background, and the radio clicks off. Chris holds his breath. 

“_ Delta to HQ, we’ve found three--Holy shit, is that Jill Valentine?” _

_ “This one’s wearing a BSAA patch from the West African branch.” _

_ “HQ to Delta, what’s your status?” _

_ “We’ve found three survivors under a dust-cover, at least two of them are likely BSAA agents. They appear to have wounds that have been tended to. They’re all unconscious but don’t appear to be in danger.’ _

_ “Copy. Retrieve them and take them to the local headquarters. We’ll contact the African branch to prepare them for your arrival.” _

_ “Copy, Delta out.” _

Relief floods him so quickly he has to sit down, dropping himself back onto the bed hard enough that it creaks in protest. His fate might be sealed, but his team is safe and away from Wesker, and right now that’s all he needs.

Wesker’s condescending _ tsk _reminds him of his situation. With a deep breath, he looked up at the man standing in the open doorway. It was jarring a little, to see find himself under the scrutiny of those piercing eyes, unconcealed by a pair of shades as Chris was so used to seeing. Accompanied by the apparently permanent change was a white lab coat, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, although the leather gloves remained. So did the pants and shoes, although he seemed to have found a plain gray shirt, which strained across his chest.

“Are you ready to come out of of time out?” Wesker drawled, and Chris scowled, eyes snapping up from his chest. Wesker smirked and disappeared back through the doorway. He trailed after him slowly, mentally trying to adjust to the situation laid out before him. What now? Much as Wesker had twisted his arm into this, Chris agreed to be here. Did he try to kill Wesker? Did he try to escape? Did he… no, never in a million years could Wesker ever be _ reformed, _ he was corrupted to the core, but maybe… maybe somehow Chris could convince him to give up on this world domination business. The man said it himself, there was a chance. (And if he had to ignore that little voice in his head saying that’s just what Wesker wanted him to think, then so be it.)

Steeling himself, Chris stepped stepped through the open doorway.

  
  


\--

  
  


Existing in the same space as Wesker was… exhausting. The first few days was a vicious truce of bared teeth and barely-restrained violence. Wesker’s biting words cut deep, sharpened by Chris’s bitterness at it all. There was more than one occasion that Wesker had gotten within arms distance to draw blood or run tests, and Chris lost his temper and ended manhandling him, pinning him to the counter or the wall, uroboros rising to his call unfailingly. And each time Chris expected him to fight back, for it to turn into an all out brawl and destroy whatever was keeping them in this unsteady limbo.

Instead Wesker would become… docile in Uroboros’ suffocating grip. His pale skin framed by the slick, writhing tendrils, wrapped around his neck and crawling up his face in a sick facsimile of a caress, vibrant gold-red eyes watching Chris with a strange intensity, waiting for him to make the next move. Chris was tainted, but so was Wesker; the ugliness of Uroboros looked fitting marring such an untouchable creature like Wesker. It did strange things to Chris, and he shuddered in disgust at himself, shoving away from the blond and storming out of the lab. 

After a couple weeks, he grew used to Wesker’s biting words, the halted beginnings of not-quite friendly banter picking up between them, a poisoned imitation of a time long gone. Chris would linger in the lab after tests, simply watching Wesker work. He made the mistake once or twice of asking about his research, fleeing from the obsessive way the man would talk about the virus, like it was a masterpiece, a work of magnificent engineering. 

The time he wasn’t in the lab he spent searching every nook and cranny of the bunker, learning its ins and outs. It wasn’t large, by any means. There was the infirmary, the holding cell Wesker had trapped him in, what amounted to a kitchen with a dry pantry--holding enough food for three years for a normal person, although between him and Wesker they seemed to consume maybe a quarter of that(in fact, he didn’t know if Wesker was eating at all)--a room with three bunk beds, and a locker-shower room in the main hall. And the lab, which accounted for about half the space of the entire bunker. 

On the fourth week he started in on the lab, poking at all the different lab equipment and pestering Wesker about what they did, which backfired horrifically, when he did get answers about what they did to ‘test subjects.’ He also rifled through files in desks and on the computer database(“Don’t hurt yourself,” Wesker commented from the other side of the room, when Chris had spent too long trying to decipher technical jargon on a single sheet of paper.)

He kept tally of the days on an old calender hanging in the kitchen, going by the clock on the computer and the last day he remembered it being, marking each one with an X. He had too much time on his hands and not enough to do with it, even more so since he only slept one every few days, for about twelve hours at a time. He hadn’t lashed out again since that first week, but he could feel the restlessness under his skin, like an itch. He took to working out again, which turned out to be a pointless endeavour; he barely felt a burn in his muscles, and he hardly tired even after a couple hours of the most strenuous routines he could think of.

\--

Halfway through the first week of the second month, he snapped. 

But this time, Wesker wasn’t having it. He smacked Uroboros to the side and darted behind Chris, who bellowed with an inhuman edge to his roar. Wesker jumped on his back, locking his legs around his waist and wrapping an arm around his neck, threatening to suffocate him. Chris grappled at him and tried to pry him off but Wesker held fast, squeezing tighter as Chris stumbled around the lab, knocking into things. Uroboros slowed as his vision grew darker, and he slowly staggered to the ground, Wesker still clinging to his back. There was a low growl in his ear, words he couldn’t make out, but still he struggled, and struggled...

He jerked awake with a huge gasp of air, still half-prepared for a fight as he searched his surroundings. But the lab was dark and still around him, not the smallest sign of life to his violent awakening. He just sat on the cold, concrete floor for a minute, getting his bearings, before clambering to his feet. How long had he been out? Where was Wesker? 

He could admit (not out loud, and certainly not to Wesker, but to himself) that he didn’t really have a right to hold it against the blond for knocking him out. Standing in the main hall, he strained his ears, finding everything silent save for the whir of the ventilation. Concentrating, he listened, until he could hear the sound of a strong, steady heartbeat, that seemed strangely slow to Chris as he followed it to the shared bedroom. 

He stopped in the doorway, and stared. 

Wesker was curled up on a lower bunk on the far wall, facing the door. Even after a minute of standing there, Wesker made no movement to indicate he knew Chris was there, breathing slow and even. The only thing covering him being a soft-looking pair of plaid fleece pants(which looked comfy as hell, where did those even come from?) Even from the doorway, Chris could see the gray-ish hue to his skin that said he was probably freezing. His brow furrowed as he mulled that over, meandering closer without conscious thought. Did Wesker feel cold? Or did everything feel hot to him? 

His brain stuttered to a halt briefly, on the sight of Wesker’s bare feet. Hairless and clean, nails evenly trimmed, pale as the rest of him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Wesker barefoot--it was a sign of vulnerability that was slightly disarming. 

Come to think of it, he didn’t think he’d ever seen the man so relaxed before, either. The slack, open expression was a far cry from his usual sneer, or guarded mask. He looked almost… normal, like this. And without an ugly expression twisting his features, Chris was unwillingly reminded that the man was attractive as hell.

Unwittingly, he found himself reaching out to the stray locks of blond hair that curled around his face, soft and damp and unkempt. Wesker must have taken a shower, he realized absently. He wondered if this was the first time Wesker had actually slept since they’d arrived here. 

Curling a strand around his finger, Chris froze. Liquid amber eyes peered up at him, calm and curious, silent, waiting. Heart pounding, he took a shallow breath, smoothing the stray curl back. Wesker’s eyes went half-lidded at the light touch, and Chris just--

He just--

He was already in the hall before his brain registered what happening, the sound of the door slamming behind him as he fled the room, he didn’t know where he was going just somewhere that wasn’t _ there _. 

But there was nowhere to go. Anywhere he could hide would only be a room away from the source of all his turmoil, and Wesker would find him. He didn’t care, he just needed--

He slammed the locker room door shut, crossing to the small space between a locker and the wall on the far side of the room. He huddled down into that space and just concentrated on not hyperventilating. 

He was losing his _ damn mind _ . It didn’t matter what Wesker looked like, it didn’t matter whatever small-- huge--display of trust he offered Chris, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered, because none of it changed the fact that Wesker was an absolute _ monster. _An intelligent, manipulative, unstable, power-hungry abomination. 

He couldn’t do this. They had only been down here a couple months and he was already slipping. He was going to get compliant, he was going to let his guard down, he was going to get sucked in by Wesker’s lies_ . _ He was going to take some part of Chris that didn’t belong to him and Chris wouldn’t be able to get it back. he was going to _ lose _.

He had to end this.

  
  


\--

  
  


“Wesker,” Chris said lowly. Luminous eyes flit down to his mouth, pale lips quirking up at the corner. They were standing so close they were breathing the same air, the corner of a tube stand digging into his forearm on the counter. He’d come over to look at the data Wesker had collected on him, trying to make sense of it. He wasn’t sure who’d moved first, how they ended up this way, nearly touching.

It had been three days since-- since then. Since he’d found Wesker, asleep and vulnerable. Since is own emotions betrayed him. Three days to come down from the panic and _ think. _Three days to convince Wesker he’d gotten over it. And now…

Calloused fingers touched cold skin, smoothing along a firm jaw. Repitilian eyes fell to half-lids again, the slightest lean into the touch like he was instinctively trying to soak up the warmth. Chris curled his palm over his nape and Wesker let out a harsh breath, making an aborted motion to lean forward. _ You have a plan, _ he reminded himself. If he wanted to indulge a little, before.... Well, he was going to hell anyway.

Slowly, Chris pulled Wesker into the curve of his body, Uroboros reaching out to cling to his arms, wrap around his waist, draw him _ in, closer. _Wesker shuddered, leaning hard into Chris’s warmth like a plant towards the sun. Wesker tucked his face into Chris’s neck. 

A few minutes passed, long enough for Chris to think the other man had fallen asleep this way, before he felt lips at his neck, mouthing at the skin there. He shivered, all his attention honed in on the soft lips working there way up to his jaw. A soft breath against his mouth, and Chris bridged the gap, kissing Wesker firmly. But it wasn’t aggressive; neither struggled for dominance, tangling leisurely even as Chris crowded Wesker against the counter, cupping his jaw and tilting his head to just the right angle. 

Eventually they pulled apart, a cool temple resting against his stubbled cheek. 

Today; it had to be today, or Chris would lose his nerve, is resolve. Already he could feel it slipping through his fingers, weakened by the weight of Wesker in his arms, the easy way they fit together. 

_ Remember why you’re doing this _, he told himself, memories of Jill and Sheva surfacing, of Josh, of Barry and Claire, of everyone from his hometown. All the people in Kijuju he’d failed to save.

  
  


\--

“_ Self destruct sequence initiated. Self destruct will begin in 1 minute.” _

Chris slammed the door to the lab shut and warped the handle from the outside, even as the kitchen door slammed open. Wesker lunged with a vicious snarl but Uroborous caught him, tethering him front to back to Chris. He thrashed, but the black tendrils encompassed him, until he could barely move. 

“_ Chris!” _He roared, but Chris didn’t answer, leaning his forward against the back of his shoulder, choking down the fear in his belly and the burning at his eyes. 

“It has to be this way,” he said. He didn’t know who he was saying it to.

  
  


\--

  
  
The deafening beat of the helicopter couldn’t mask the violent _ boom _ that shook the earth and the air with its violence. The helicopter lurched with the force of the shockwave, and Sheva and Josh scrambled to identify the source. They laid eyes on a giant cloud of smoke and fire reaching towards the sky, hearts filling with dread.

_"You had to have it all_   
_Well, have you had enough?_   
_You greedy little bastard, you will get what you deserve."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make it clear what was happening without being too on the nose about it. I hope it made sense, sorry if it didn't! I'm open to feedback. 
> 
> Warnings: Chris blows up the entire bunker with him and Wesker still inside it. They die(probably). It is non-explicit/non-graphic.
> 
> \- Chaos


End file.
